


Complex Equations

by BiLo Ren (do_it_to_julia)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Ethical Dilemmas, Extremely Dubious Consent, Givin (Star Wars), Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mentions of Slavery, Moral Ambiguity, Mutual Non-Con, Non-consensual Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Something Made Them Do It, Sort of tentacles but not really, Twi'leks (Star Wars), Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24951568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/do_it_to_julia/pseuds/BiLo%20Ren
Summary: A Twi'lek padawan and his Givin master find themselves in complicated circumstances.
Relationships: Original Male Jedi Master/Original Male Jedi Padawan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: Nonconathon 2020





	Complex Equations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shanlyrical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/gifts).



> So I’ve shamelessly pillaged Legends/Extended Universe canon for this; I hope that’s alright! This fic is intended to take place an unspecified number of years before the SWTOR story arcs begin, but no experience of SWTOR is required to understand the story.
> 
> Also, full disclosure: I am the same person who wrote your actual assignment. Does that violate anonymity rules? Not sure, but I'm going to err on the side of transparency here. I had two ideas for this prompt, and I decided I might as well finish the second as well, despite the fact it ended up being more dubcon than noncon (so if you don't like it, it's nay bother).

Sweet smoke rose up from the fire in the middle of the circle, eking its way to the small hole in the canopy above; the tent didn't keep in much heat, but this, Tek had gathered, was not a place intended for comfort. 

The eyes of the clan leaders were on him, and even without the Force, it wouldn't have been hard to tell what they were thinking. He was the only Twi'lek here without some kind of visible scarring. Granted, he was also younger than most of them by at least a decade, but he had the distinct sense that didn't excuse him in their eyes.

He realized his lekku were twitching subtly at the ends, and purposefully stilled them. It wouldn’t be a great idea to appear nervous right now.

_ “Slavery has left a deep mark on the Vild; the treatment their ancestors endured was worse than many others of their time.” _ Tek recalled his master’s words, delivered not long before they’d set out on this mission.  _ “They were experimented on, forced to work in extreme conditions, subject to the every whim of their cruel masters. Only with strength and great sacrifice did they manage to break free, and now they see everything in those terms; ownership, power, submission. Remember your training, little one. If you feel the urge to exercise judgment, keep in mind that understanding and compassion are also within your reach.” _

Master Sirul was silent now, sitting cross-legged beside him and looking for all the world like a desiccated corpse among apathetic mourners. He was very much alive, of course, but his rigid exoskeleton gave him the appearance of… well, a regular skeleton, with the corresponding darkened eye-sockets and nasal cavities that caused many beings to regard the Givin race as  _ super fucking creepy _ . Though Tek was used to it by now, he understood why Sirul’s appearance could be unsettling to others. Perhaps that was why they’d been chosen for this mission. That, and Sirul’s anthropological expertise. But the skull-face thing definitely helped.

Abruptly, the Clan Matriarch spoke, cutting Tek out of his reverie. “I’m told you’ve come to negotiate peace.”

Sirul inclined his head. “Peace is indeed part of what we seek. But I would also request your wisdom.”

“My wisdom,” the older woman repeated, with a slightly sardonic edge to her voice. She was seated directly across the fire from them, with two bulky-looking Twi’lek standing behind her, their hands resting on their blasters. But given the tattoos and scarification covering almost her entire body, she actually looked far more intimidating than they did.

“Yes,” replied the Givin in that low, hollow voice of his. “I would ask why you continue to attack our archaeological teams.”

“They encroach on our land. We’re simply defending it.”

Both Tek and Sirul had already suspected this was a territory issue. The pilgrims outside the Old Temple were not the only Twi’lek refugees to settle on Tython; the Vild had claimed land on a separate continent soon after the hyperlanes were re-established. The Jedi weren’t legally allowed to treat their claim as legitimate, but nor were they inclined to just kick them off-planet.

And so the Vild had been pointedly ignored right until the moment they'd decided to attack several groups of unsuspecting archaeologists who’d strayed too close to their borders.

Though the sacking of Coruscant less than a decade before had seriously depleted their numbers, the Jedi had decided that calling in Republic forces to help should be treated as a last resort. Hence, Tek and Sirul. Given the way some of the Vild were looking at him, Tek was beginning to wonder if they shouldn’t have just called in the troops after all.

_ “Be calm, little one. The situation is within our control.” _

It took Tek a moment to realize that Sirul was speaking through their training bond. He gave the subtlest of nods, sending back a vague sense of agreement rather than any discernible words, and stayed quiet.

“We don’t intend any harm to your people. But there are a number of vitally important artefacts within the territory you claim, and we wish to discuss how to retrieve these without undermining your authority.” Ever the diplomat, Sirul avoided mentioning the fact that the Twi’lek here technically didn’t own any territory, which was the right call. They wouldn’t have taken well to it.

Nor would they have taken well to the standard Givin attitude, which was to expect a form of reciprocal politeness that - unfortunately - took the form of offering and solving complex mathematical problems. Sirul, thankfully, seemed to have let go of this, although he still offered students the traditional greeting that the more cosmopolitan Givin used with outsiders; any one of a number of equations to which the answer was always “three”.

“If you truly  _ acknowledge our authority _ , as you say, then you would also acknowledge that these artifacts belong to us,” the Matriarch was saying. “And the Vild do not trade. We  _ take _ .”

“Then let me offer a solution which may benefit us both,” Sirul intoned. “These items are of no use to your clan, even if you deign to retrieve them. Perhaps if we… invited you to take something of ours, you would consider it tactically inconvenient to prevent us from taking the artifacts in turn.”

“That just sounds like trade with extra steps,” the woman replied wryly. Then she cocked her head. “But you’ve come here in the knowledge that we may well decide to attack you at any time, and you’ve come alone, accompanied only by a child.” (This made Tek bristle - he was seventeen years old - but he stayed silent.) “We are inclined to respect the strength inherent in this gesture. To a degree.”

She glanced around at the circle of leaders, and then back at Sirul before continuing. “We will _ allow _ you to remain here until we see fit to expel you, and we will tolerate  _ some _ discussion regarding what our clan stands to gain from this. But there is another matter that must be resolved before you begin.”

Tek suppressed a frown. He’d expected to be fired at, but he hadn’t expected… whatever this was. His trepidation grew as he realized several of the clan elders were staring directly at him.

Sirul didn’t speak, just waited for the Matriarch to continue. A slight smile appeared on her aged face, and she diverted her gaze to the pair of leaders sitting on her right - both men, and both blue-hued, like Tek, although their skin was a few shades lighter than his.

“Orn. Firith. I give you permission to speak.”

The one furthest from the Matriarch straightened up. “I call on the alien to prove his claim.”

_ Prove his claim? _ Tek thought. Then he remembered what he’d read about the Vild before coming here, and his whole body went cold.  _ Oh, kriff. _

* * *

The way it worked, among the Vild, was that clan members who had not yet reached the age of majority - usually somewhere around twenty or twenty-one, depending on when they passed their initiation ritual - were considered the property of their closest adult relative. In a twisted way, this apparently ensured that the most vulnerable members of society could be protected in terms that made sense within their culture.

"Unless you don't have any relatives," Tek had pointed out, from his seat opposite Sirul in the library.

"Very perceptive. Yes, the position of orphans is more complex - similar to the way marriage works, in fact. The partner who chooses to leave their old family unit becomes property of the new one. This kind of transfer of ownership is only possible where a sexual relationship is present."

"So - hold up. You're saying that if a kid loses their family, they basically have free rein to-"

"No. Coitus involving those who have not yet reached sexual maturity is still considered taboo, in this culture," the Givin cut in. "One may still claim an orphaned child as property, but any kind of counterclaim would require all potential claimants to enter into a fatal combat. In practical terms, this means that most orphaned children become the wards of the clan matriarch."

"Thank you, Master, for the experience of hearing you say the word 'coitus'. Not sure I'll ever be able to forget that." Tek made a face. "I seem to remember that the Order doesn't condone slavery."

"Would you rather I used profanity? And no, it does not. But the Vild are a product of extreme and complex circumstances, and it is still possible to respect a culture whilst also remaining critical of some of its aspects. Encouraging them to listen to us is only one step of many, Padawan. Remember that."

* * *

Tek had to remind himself to breathe. The worst thing was that Sirul wasn't even saying anything, telepathically or out loud; he was just looking at Tek, with that fixed, inscrutable expression of his. Doubtless his master was evaluating all possible options, and Tek tried to work out what those would be.

Since Tek clearly wasn't related to Sirul, Orn and Firith were within their rights to challenge him. If Sirul refused to prove that his claim on Tek was legitimate, it would fall on Orn and Firth to either defeat Sirul in combat - which would result in Sirul killing them both, and the Vild doubling down on their refusal to deal with the Jedi - or claim Tek for themselves, which would result in… well, in Tek having a really, really fucking bad day. But was the alternative any better? At least nobody would die, and the thought of Sirul touching him was less weird and uncomfortable than he might have expected. Tek trusted his master. He always had.

"Respected Matriarch," he could hear Sirul saying, "You are wise enough to know that our ways are not yours. It is strictly forbidden for a Jedi Master to lay claim on his Padawan in this manner."

"You're on our land, alien, so you'll follow our laws," came the curt response. "Or were you lying when you said you acknowledged my authority as leader here?"

The only way to convince the Vild to defer to the Jedi would be for the Jedi to defeat them. And Vild fought to the death. Tek was already feeling dizzy with the weight of it all; there was a ringing in his ears that he knew was a sign of panic.  _ Breathe _ , he told himself.  _ You know this is the only way. Just get through it, and you'll be okay. _

But Sirul still didn't speak, and it took Tek a moment or two to realize why. His master was waiting for him to communicate. With sudden certainty, Tek knew that if he didn't give his consent for this, Sirul would take up his lightsaber to defend them both without a moment's hesitation, and the thought gave him enough strength to hold his head up high and think,  _ Yes _ . Just once, but loud enough for his master to pick up on it.

Sirul turned his face back to the Matriarch.

"Very well," he said. "May we repair to somewhere more comfortable?"

The woman cocked her head toward the space in front of the fire. It was marginally warmer than where Tek was sitting, which was probably the Vild idea of a compromise. He looked once more at his master’s face, at that skeletal rictus which no longer disturbed him as it had before, and stood up, drawing on the Force to keep his legs from trembling.

He could hear Sirul standing as well. Determined to remain dignified in front of all these watchers, Tek kept his eyes on the far canvas wall as he began to shed his robes. First his outer-robe, then the layers beneath, baring his unmarked blue skin to the air. He was down to just a thin tunic when he felt a hand on his shoulder - Sirul’s. Though the Givin’s expression remained unchanged, Tek could sense his worry, and his regret.

_ I am sorry, little one. I would not do this if it was avoidable, _ he heard in his mind.

_ It’s okay _ , Tek replied, although he couldn’t hide his fear from the other Jedi. Clearly he would have to approach this in the same way as he would immerse himself in cold water - by jumping in head-first. He took Sirul’s hand and led him nearer the fire, then knelt down, finally shrugging off his tunic as Sirul sank down before him.

The Jedi Master was still half-clothed, and when he was finally undressed, he surprised Tek by stretching himself out on the ground beside him. Tek hadn’t really pictured his master naked before, but it made sense that his body was covered in the same airtight grey chitin as his face. Under his robes, he looked less like the skeleton everyone expected and more like… well, more like some alien guy who happened to have a skull for a head.

Yeah, these thoughts definitely weren’t helping. Luckily, Sirul’s hands on Tek’s wrists were a well-timed distraction, and Tek allowed himself to be moved into a straddling position atop his Master’s hips.

_ It will be easier for you, this way _ , he explained through their bond. Tek’s heart cracked a little bit at that, but it comforted him, too.

Sirul didn’t have any kind of visible genitals, which puzzled Tek until he remembered that Givin were supposed to be able to survive in a vacuum, and that for them, exposed skin was at best a vulnerability and at worst a taboo. For a moment, Tek actually came close to pitying him. Being seen naked was bad enough, but this suggested a kind of nakedness beyond anything Tek could conceive of, like having an open surgical site. Whatever kind of penis Sirul had, it was still hidden, and would probably remain so for as long as possible.

_ You have two options _ , Sirul continued in the silence.  _ I can attempt to provide you with some enjoyment from the experience, or I can get it over with as soon as possible. It’s your decision. _

It was becoming all too real, now, with the feel of his master’s rigid thighs against his comparatively soft skin, and Tek didn’t need to think about his answer.  _ As soon as possible, _ he answered.  _ Please. _

_ Understood. You’ll need to prepare yourself. _

Tek wasn’t sure what he meant, but then Sirul sent him a mental image, and the Twi’lek’s cheeks became warm. Trying not to look at either his master or his surroundings, he sucked on his fingers to wet them and then arched his back so he could reach behind himself. It wasn’t an easy position, even for someone as flexible as Tek was, and the penetration burned despite his liberal application of saliva.

To do this for the first time in front of so many people was humiliating, but if he concentrated, he could pretend there was nobody else here except the two of them, and the flickering light of the fire over their bodies. He felt Sirul squeeze his thighs reassuringly, and telegraphed gratitude in response.

Still, you could only finger yourself for so long when that many people were watching you.  _ Please, just do it, _ he asked Sirul eventually, and - despite his master’s obvious reluctance - the Givin obeyed. He reached down to his groin and with two fingers pressed down on the chitinous plate between his legs, parting as if trying to open something up. Tek glanced away after a second to concentrate on brushing his lekku over his shoulders, partly because he suspected they’d brush distractingly against Sirul’s knee-plates during the act and partly to give his master some semblance of privacy. Then he felt something wet eke its way into his cleft, and he couldn’t help it - he gasped.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t a cock. It had the texture of a tongue, and seemed even thinner than his own still-flaccid shaft, although over the next few seconds he realized it was far longer. Tek could feel it working its way inside him, lubricated by his own spit and something else that seemed to exude from the appendage itself. He closed his eyes, attempting to block out the murmur of voices while he came to terms with the fact he was losing his virginity to his own Master in front of an audience who were probably still half-sold on killing them both.

Sirul squeezed his thighs again.  _ I won’t allow anyone to harm you, _ Tek heard inside his head, and then,  _ think of something else, if it helps. I will not be offended. _

Tek had to restrain himself from letting out a brief and manic laugh, at that.  _ Just promise me you won’t use the word ‘coitus’, _ he shot back, and was slightly gratified to sense a brief, shocked amusement in return. Just because Givin couldn’t smile didn’t mean they couldn’t have a sense of humour, albeit an incredibly dry one.

Sirul’s member started to pulse in a rhythmic, undulating pattern, and the pressure on his rim was close to painful, but it was also nudging against something inside of him that caused Tek to instinctively rock his hips into the feeling. He was close to half-hard when he felt Sirul’s hips jerk upwards, and heard a brief, hollow moan from the base of the Givin’s throat. When that long, wormlike shaft finally withdrew from him, Tek felt far more slick inside than he had before.

_ Are you hurt? _

Tek looked down. His master’s hands were on his waist, now; he couldn’t remember when they’d moved. But he didn’t mind.

_ I’m fine _ , he replied. And he really was.

* * *

It took several hours after that for them to reach an agreement with the Vild. Tek had sat quietly through most of the negotiations, trying to forget the fact that literally everyone in the room had seen his master fuck him. When they were finally alone again, and settling into their suborbital shuttle for the brief journey back to the Temple, Sirul didn’t speak, and Tek felt inclined to break the silence first.

“You realize that was absolutely a test, back there, don’t you?”

“I do.” A pause; if Sirul had been capable of facial expressions, he might have looked thoughtful. “Do you believe there was any other possible solution?”

“I don’t. Do you?”

“I am not yet certain. Padawan - I would understand if you requested a different teacher, after this.”

”I don’t plan to,” Tek said, immediately. “You didn’t hurt me, Master. In fact, you went out of your way not to.”

“The others at the Temple may not agree.”

“They don’t necessarily have to know.” Tek gave his master a sidelong look. Sirul didn’t seem convinced.

“We will need to discuss this at some point.”

“Yeah. We will. But not right now,” Tek conceded.

“As you wish,” Sirul replied, and tapped in the coordinates for home.


End file.
